


A Potion For Thee

by chaotically_cas



Category: The Outsiders - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Shakespearean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28969629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaotically_cas/pseuds/chaotically_cas
Summary: A villagea sira lovethand a potion
Relationships: Ponyboy Curtis/Steve Randle
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> Yes this is in old English 😭

Ponyboy sighed to himself, dragging his long fingers across the railing of the fence that outlined his house. His eyes fixated on a young man who stood by the small village pond. He was a fine man indeed, thought Ponyboy. 

The mans hair combed back in complicated swirls and his gap teeth showing in every smile. By the description of him, one wouldn’t think too much of him, but Ponyboy hath found his thoughts stuck.  
Steve Randle. 

Ponyboy, the ripe age of nineteen, found himself thinking more and more about Steve over the years. He had been oh so hopelessly in love with him since he was a kid. And now as an adult his feelings haven't been shaken in the slightest, Pony had found himself starting to fancy the idea of Steve even more. 

He stared on as Steve as he babbled on to a small crowd of young girls that had formed around him, probably to hear his great stories from battle. It was a quaint but still sight to see. Most certainly when Steve’s smile flashed over at Ponyboy, his brave eyes meeting Pony’s longing ones. Pony wondered if he looked as desperate as he felt. 

He had known Steve, but Steve hadn’t known him. It was almost a gastly existence for Ponyboy, being so hopelessly in love with the boy of the town's highest regarded tales. He felt like some silly peasant in one of the books he kept so sacredly. 

He watched as Steve followed after the crowd of girls. Steve hadn’t noticed Pony enough to even look back at him as he left. Pony knew he ought to be going mad over the gent. 

Pony quickened up as his affliction disappeared around the corner. He found himself wondering wherefore was the point of this deep love. 

He needed to talk to someone, someone to make him feel even the slightest less zany. Curly Shepard.   
An unpregnant ravin like boy, nineteen, who was known around the village for his mad way of thinking and his troublesome behavior. Yet, he was still Pony’s best of mates. 

Ponyboy trudged along the dirt path, ducking under the arms and scowls of the village people. He made his way to Curly’s distraught looking hut. 

“Curly? Art thou in?” Pony called, knocking gently on the huts broke in door. 

“Tis open” Pony heard the braves voice call from inside. 

Pony pushed inside, seeing Curly craving what appeared to be a small knife from wood.   
“What is yond?” Pony hath asked, motioning at the wood in Curly’s hands. 

“A weapon. What goeth here?” Curly did question back. 

“I wast wond'ring about a spelleth” Pony shrugged, picking at the nape of his neck. 

“What for” Curly hummed in response, not looking up from his woodwork. 

“A lovers spell.”

“A lovers spell? Wherefore doest thou need a lovers spell?”

“For loveth, wherefore else?”

“For whom doth thee needeth the spell for?” Curly did reply, getting up and walking round his table. 

“I wilt not to say” Pony smiled, afraid to admit to his affliction. 

“If 't be true thee won’t say I cannot giveth to thee” Curly shrugged. 

In the moment Ponyboy, as much as he wished not to quarrel, did indeed want to bite his thumb at his friend. 

“Thee sure art a valorous cousin” Pony scoffed sarcastically, stepping further into the hut. 

“Then doth bid me, to whom doth thee wanteth so badly” Curly smirked, an evil smile covering his face.

“Shall thee promise to not chuckle?”

“I doth.”

“Tis for the most wondrous warrior, Steve” Pony told. 

“Steve? However doth thee plaited that gent?” Curly asked, his smirk ever present. 

“Thou promised!” Ponyboy scolded. 

“I didst not chuckle” Curly defended “just hath asked wherefore?”

“Wherefore might not but I pray pardon me mine own loveth?” Pony shot back. 

“I just wondered to what extent doth thee loveth that gent?” Curly shrugged, not thinking too much of his friends confession. 

“Wherefore shouldst it matter?”

“Because thou art asking for a life altering spelleth.”

“Yond be the pointeth” Ponyboy laughed. 

“I feeleth as i might not but warneth thee of the effects” Curly spoke meaningfully, raising a brow “What happeneth at which hour the spelleth wears off? What happeneth at which hour that gent nay longeth loves thee? What happeneth at which hour thee regreteth it?”

“I won’t regreteth it! Prithee giveth me the spelleth” Ponyboy begged, growing tired of the back and forth of it all. 

“Fine. But doth not cometh running to me at which hour thy heart is broken” Curly hiss, rummaging through his cupboards until he found a small vile of the green potion “here.”

Curly tossed the potion to Pony, who promptly caught it and shoved it been into his ragged pockets. 

“Beest careful” Curly mumbled, sitting back down with his half carved knife. 

“Thee don’t needeth to warn me, I shall beest. Thanketh thee” Pony replied, turning on his heels and exiting the small hut. 

As he walked back in the directly of his house, he couldn’t help but continuously running his digits along the vile, trying to simulate the feeling of Steve finally returning his love. It was a thought Pony had imagined countless numbers of times, but none as clear as now. None as clear as the possibility now was. 

However it did cause him a bit of coil, knowing that he hadn’t been enough to have the love occur naturally. He tried to front those thoughts and shove them deep into the pit of his stomach as he made his way through the creaky gate to his house. 

“Sodapop?” Pony called, entering the familiarity of his cozy childhood home. 

“Good morrow Ponyboy!” he heard his older brother call from the only separate room in the small house. 

“Good morrow Sodapop. What goest on?” Pony smiled, sitting down besides his brother on the sorry excuse of a bed “Doth thee hast any cater-cousins coming over tonight?”

“Only Steve. Wherefore doth thee asketh?”

“Only curios.”

“Darry is making a potato soup for the nonce! Steve hast just cometh home from battle” Soda replied with a giddy grin.

Soda and Steve had been the best of friends and battle partners since Pony was a baby. For as long as he had known Steve, he had known him as a termagant and malapert man. Spitting at and quarrelling with anyone he could may his cunning hand on. That is why him and Soda were good friends, because Soda was just the opposite. Soda wouldst only square at which hour did need to. Which made them inseparable. 

But as much as Steve was around, he did not take much of a liking to Pony. Steve saw Pony as a hilding peat who wasn’t much good for more than a kicketh to the head. 

And sure it hurt Pony but he couldn’t help but seeing Steve in a way he was sure no one else had. A way no one had bothered to put into perspective. 

Like the way Steve’s smile at each moment hath seemed to brighten up the day. Or coequal the battlefield. Because while that gent wast not the most physically attractive sir, by comparison to Soda, beest sure couldst square. Which hath led to a constant swarm of girls 'round that gent. Which made it coequal more nearly impossible for Pony to express his affliction for that gent. 

Pony stayed stuck in thoughts of Steve and the potion the entire duration of the time between Steve arriving at their door. Completely knocking Pony out of his deep thoughts, nearly bringing some into reality. 

Pony did see Steve appear in the doth'rway, nearly having to duck under it. Pony hast almost forgot the pure size of that gent. And the way that gent did bite his tongue with every smileth, nearly making him fall in love all over again. But to be fair, he fell more every time he laid eyes on Steve. 

“Holla there Ponyboy, how art thee?” Steve shocked Pony by addressing him, something he would usually never do without insult. 

“Good morrow Steve” Pony stuttered out “I am well, how art thee?”

“Not restful. Mine own corse is in teen from battle. I nearly did get mine own headeth chopped off, but I hath killed the guy real valorous” Steve boosted. 

“Well I’m fain thee didn’t” Pony replied honestly. He knew Steve was good in a quarrel but he still didn’t bear the thought of losing him. For himself and for Soda. 

“Golly peat, I am too” Steve laughed “yond sure wouldst suckerh wouldn’t it?”

“I’ll sayeth” Ponyboy replied softly as Soda ran into the room, tackling his best friend to the ground. 

He watched the two of them wrestle each other until Soda was pinned under Steve’s strong arms, Steve shouting at him to give in. 

“Receiveth up shall thee? Dinner is eft” Darry called from the other small room.

Pony chuckled to himself walking to take his seat at the small wooden table, Steve and Soda joining them soon after. 

Pony quickly remembered the potion deep in his pocket, just in time, he scolded himself. 

“I’ll serve up Darry, you sitteth down” Pony told his older brother, getting up from the table demandingly. 

“Thanketh thee Ponyboy” Darry replied suspiciously but still taking his seat at the table and letting Pony serve up the soup. 

Pony carefully reached into his pocket, in fear and gast of being caught. He poured the soup carefully into each bowl before yanking off the cap the the vile, pouring and mixing the green liquid into what he decided would be Steve’s bowl. 

“Art thee doing tis fine?” Darry asked from the table, noticing Pony taking a bit of a long time. 

“Perfectly tis fine” Pony smiled, shoving the vile back into his empty pocket, picking up the dishes and placing them in front of each gent. Making sure to put the potioned one in front of Steve, who without a second glance dove in as if he hadn’t eaten in a year.


	2. Act II

The dinner hadn’t taken very long to finish up. All four boys had digested their food in a matter of seconds.   
Pony anxiously stared at Steve the entire meal, wishing he had questioned Curly on how long it took the spell to go into effect. Because it was seeming to take minutes. 

Minutes turned into hours and hours turned into nightfall and Pony had still noticed no change in the behavior of the gent. Growing cross and anxious, Pony began to gross restless as he watched Steve and Soda wrestle around the stone floor. 

“I’m going to sleep chamber,” Pony signed, standing up and walking across the small room to his straw bed, a single warm wool blanket laying across it. 

“Goodnight Ponyboy, sweet dreams” he heard Soda grunt, probably from pinned under Steve. 

Pony listened on as the two of them brawled on through the night, Darry occasionally shushing them when they got too loud, until he felt himself finally falling into a deep warm sleep. 

Dreams of Steve in battle with him in hand flooded his head as he slept, only waking to the sound of sizzling from the stove. 

“Valorous m'rning Ponyboy, how didst thee catch but a wink” he heard Steve greet from the cozy kitchen. 

“I did sleep a valorous slumber. Wh're art mine own brothers?” Pony asked, sitting up, admiring the braves messy hair and morning glow. 

“Those gents wenteth off to work. Careth for some breakfast?” Steve smiling, turning to Ponyboy who sat perched on his bed, offering him a biscuit. 

“For me? Wherefore art thee being so kind? Art thee tis fine?” Pony questioned, reaching a hesitant hand out for the biscuit. 

“I did sleep just fine. What is so wrong with offering a cousin a meal?” Steve laughed, his gap teeth showing. 

“Nothing I do suppose.”

“Valorous. Then I supposeth thee won’t mind me showing thee 'round the village” Steve cheered, jumping up with a holler. 

“Wherefore wouldst thee wanteth to doth yond?” Pony asked confused, nibbling on the biscuit he had been provided. 

“Who is't else doth I has't to spendeth the day with? Twill beest excitement!” Steve exclaimed, nearly startling Pony so bad it knocked his food out of his hand. 

“Thee wanteth to wend anon?” Pony pried on, suspicious of Steve’s rampant behavior. 

It was only just then when Pony had remembered the spell. And he couldn’t believe it had finally set in. He was beginning to ponder the thought that Curly had played a trick on him. 

“Wherefore not? We has't all day, don’t we? 'twill beest the most excitement Pony!” Steve pleaded, grabbing Pony’s wrists and pulling him off of the bed. 

“I bethink it might beest” Pony blushed to himself as Steve dragged him towards the door, not caring to let him finish his food. 

The sun beat down heavily on the small village, making nearly every wench and gent in sight take refuge under a patch of shade. On hot days like this Pony would usually spend his time by the fountain, which confused him even further when Steve began to pull him in the opposite direction. 

“Wh're art we going?” Pony asked, sweat already beginning to drip from his lip line. 

“Has't patience Ponyboy, thee shall see” Steve spoke out. 

Ponyboy did not know how Steve was managing to not notice all the stares from the distaff as they passed, even one occasionally throwing themselves at him right in front as the two walked. 

“What is't liketh to has't every wench in town to hangeth on thy every word?” Pony asked, curiosity pouring through him. 

“Those gents only doth liketh me f'r me stories of hurlyburly and square, those gents doth not bethink of me much deeper than yond” Steve sighed. 

The two of them continued to walk down the cobblestone path that led out of town, leading to a small lilac meadow Pony had only remembered from being a kid. 

“I wenteth here at which hour I wast a issue” Pony remarked, a bright smile spreading across his face as the sun warmed him even more now that they were out of the way of the small houses and shops. 

“Doth thee rememb'r the stream?” Steve mentioned, pointing to a break in the field where Pony could hear the soft soundscape of a flowing brook. 

“I don’t” Pony frowned watching Steve pull off his boots “What art thee taking thy boots off for?”

“T is hot, is't not?”

Steve stuck his feet in the small stream and laid back resting his head on his hands. He looked almost magical. It made Pony question if he had given the potion to Steve or to himself. 

His brown hair slid off his forehead and hung down as he looked up at the sky, eyes closed. While Pony did wish he could see the beauty of Steve’s brown orbs he took the opportunity to admire the sight of the gent in front of him. 

The sun had accentuated every aspect of his features. Making the small scars and cuts that covered his face from battle ever visible. He looked like a warrior. He looked as gallant as the knight in shining armor men that are described in his every book. He didn’t seem real. 

“Cometh forswear down with me” Steve told Pony, squinting his eyes open just enough to see the outside of Pony’s body, his auburn hair looking like a ring of fire as the sun shown through it. 

Pony obeyed, taking off his sandals and dipping his feet in the cold stream next to Steve’s. There sides brushing together for a fraction of a second but just long enough for Pony’s stomach to be engulfed in the familiar feeling of his fancy. 

“Doesnt this feeleth most well” Steve sighed out, pressing his eyes closed again. Giving Pony a chance to look over and study his side profile. He found himself wondering if Olympus was missing a god. 

“Very well.”

“What art thy dreams, Ponyboy?” Steve hummed, his voice coming out a bit deep from being on his back. 

“Mine own dreams?” 

“Thee has't to has't but one, bid me” Steve pushed with a smile, a smile that made the sensation in Pony’s stomach almost hurt at the sight of it. 

Pony let a silence fall between the two of them as they lay. He began to think, did he have any dreams? He had never desired much more than the village or the life he had. Sure he spent his nights dreaming of a knight in shining armor and his days in thoughts of princes, but he didn’t know if that was a dream. As far as he was concerned he had only ever desired one thing. 

“I only has't but one” Pony said in a whisper. 

“Bid me so.”

“I wanteth to loveth and to beest did love by another,” Pony smiled at the words. 

“In which ways?”

Pony took a deep breath in. 

“In a way so sacred and whole yond nay one can help but to beest envious. I wanteth to love in a way mine own heart nay longeth'r aches. I wanteth to kiss in a way yond holds mine own heart lief and never lets me forget of it’s warmeth embrace. I wanteth a prince.”

“A prince, liketh from a castle?”

“Nay but from a book. A prince who is't is brave and stout and bold. A prince who is't knoweth how to hold. Doth thee understand?” Pony explained, keeping his eyes locked on the quaint features of Steve’s fighting visage. 

“A prince, how doth thee reckon thee shall findeth one?” Steve chuckled. 

“I knoweth of one, a warrior in hurlyburly at yond too” Pony smiled, finding the slightest joy in the space that Steve didn’t know his words were about him. 

“Who is't doth thee knoweth of?” Steve questioned, his eyes still pitched shut from the bright sunlight above. 

Ponyboy had never imagined himself in a situation such as the present. With Steve, and the spell, and the brook. It gave him a new sense of wanderlust and pride. Almost giving him enough courage to spit out the words that had been apart of his heart for a decade. 

“Thee” Pony spoke. 

Steve’s eyes open as his head turned to meet Pony’s gaze. His honey brown eyes were almost unreadable. 

“I?” 

“Aye, thee, thou art mine own prince” Pony whispered nervously, afraid of what the response would be.   
It ought to be good, Pony thought, he had ensured it to be. 

“If 't be true I’m thy prince then how doest yond changeth us?” Steve asked sincerely, his bespectacled eyes darting around Pony’s every single feature. 

“With a kiss?”

“I’ll kisseth thee a prince.”

And before the corners of Pony’s lips could even begin to tug into a smile he felt the warmth of Steve’s lips on his own. A kiss that had been decades in the making for Ponyboy yet only in the soup for Steve.


	3. Act III

“This is not tis fine” Pony whispered, pulling away from the kiss, resting his forehead against Steve’s. 

“It’s not? I bethought thee hath said to kisseth me” Steve questioned, a frown pulling at his lips at the lack of Pony’s. 

Thee don’t actually loveth me, Steve, not very much” Pony signed. 

“Oh but I doth. I loveth thee v'ry much. Thou art but mine own prince” Steve smiled, leaning into Pony again. 

Pony turned his head so Steve’s face fell into the crook of his neck. 

“Tis not but real, Steve” Pony whimpered out, beginning to wish he had listened to Curly. Boy had he never wished such a thing before. 

“Who is't art thee to bid me who is't I loveth?” Steve snapped, sitting up making Pony fall onto his elbows “How doth thee figure thee can doth yond?”

Pony searched Steve’s eyes for what he could possibly say to Pony’s truth. 

“For but a potion” Pony mumbled, looking down at his feet in the brooks clear blue water. 

“A potion?”

“A potion for thee.”

“For me? For what? Wherefore” Steve asked, Ponyboy couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused. He settled on a bit of both as he bit as his inner cheek. 

“I did want thee to loveth me” Pony whispered, forcing himself to make his eyes meet Steve’s. 

“Thee gaveth me a loveth potion? Thee hadst nay needeth to doth so” Steve finally responded, laughter lacing his gently gruff voice. 

“Thou art not nimble-footed?” Pony asked, completely shocked to see Steve’s gap toothed smile. 

“Because the potion didn’t w'rk, clotpole” Steve smirked. 

“What doth thee cullionly it didn’t w'rk? Thee did kiss me didn’t thee?” 

“I didst. But I hadst been wanting to before the present day” Steve shrugged, leaning back on his hands and letting his hair fall into his eyes. 

“Has't thee?” Pony smiled, feeling his cheeks heat up almost as hot as the warm summer's day. 

“Wherefore haven’t I.”

Pony couldn’t help but notice the sincerity and earnest in Steve’s voice. It made him wonder how strong the potion truly was. 

“How doth I knoweth this is not the potion talking f'r thee?” Pony frowned, regretting nearly his every life decision. 

“How doth thee knoweth tis not?”

Pony let out a shaky sigh, looking at his feel in the streams water as it flowed past the both of them. 

He sat pondering that. How did he know if it was or wasn’t. How was he supposed to know what was real or what was a long awaited dream. It hurt his head. 

“I needeth to speak with Curly” Pony spoke softly, picking up his shoes and running near as fast as he could towards the cobblestone path that led back into two. Not caring to wait or hear a response from Steve, he just kept running. And for the first time in his life he didn’t look back. 

He ran through the village as fast as he could. Both to avoid the snarls and shouts from the villagers as he passed and because the hot stones began to burn his purined feet. He ran until he crashed through Curly Shepherd's hut door, without care of who was home or the state the door was already in. 

“Alas!” he heard Curly shout, jumping up from the same table he sat at the day prior “back so lief? What hath happened?” 

“That gent did kiss me! That gent did kiss me right on from which we speak, and hath said the potion didn’t work! And hath said that gent did indeed love me on my own” Pony ranted out, growing more worked up as the smirk on the corner of Curly’s lips turned up. 

“Doth kissed thee? Oh but sweet and tender?”

“As sweet as honey and as tender as a flower.”

“A quite quaint kiss. Wherefore art thee fell?” Curly asked innocently, picking at his wooden knife he had finished since Pony’s last visit. 

“Steve hath said the potion didn’t work. But that gent spoke of loving me. How can yond beest?” Pony questioned, running his hands through his still sun warmed hair. 

“Has't thee ev'r bethought that sir doest loveth thee?” Curly retorted. 

“What art thee declaring….?” Pony hesitated. 

“The potion? Not for love.”

“If 't be true not for love, then what for?” Pony pressed on, not believing the trickster. 

“Tis nothing but water from the swamp” Curly shrugged, taking out another identical vile from the cupboard and pouring a bit on his tongue, forming a looks of repulsion “swamp water.”

Pony was in shock. He didn’t know whether to spit at or hit his friend. 

“Oh alas thee! I misprise thee! I doth biteth mine own thumb at thee!” Pony shouted, not even realizing what Curly’s words meant. 

“Biteth thy thumb all thee wanteth, thee did get did kiss, didst thee not?” Curly chuckled, watching as his words finally sunk in. 

“My god. Thou art correct” Pony stuttered out, back up until his back hit the hits door, pushing it open and falling out of it. He heard Curly call to him but the sound of his feet slapping the pavement and his ever beating heart covered any noise of the world aside of him. 

He didn’t care about the stares or shouts nor the hot feeling of his feet, although he did feel some relief as he felt the lilah field back under his running legs. 

“Steve!” he called, running as fast as he could towards Steve. He watched as Steve stood up, the same beautiful gap toothed smile ever present on his smiling face. Pony slowed down to a stop as he came within feet of his love. 

“Thee doth loveth me?” Pony gasped out, in desperate need for air, yet not caring for a soul other than the love in front of him. 

“I hath said I didst” Steve replied softly, letting Pony intertwine both of their hands in between them, making the stout feeling in both their stomachs luminous with love. 

“I didst not bethink it wast true” Pony blushed as Steve took a step closer to him, now towering over to look deep into Pony’s jewel green eyes. 

“Well anon thee know.”

“I doth.”

“Then thee shall beest mine own prince, aye?”

“I wouldst melteth for yond.”

The two met in the middle a gentle most passionate loving kiss. A kiss that was no longer but a daydream or tale in the night. A kiss from a different story of battle. A kiss no longer made from soup.


End file.
